In a tunnel of gold a black bear sleeps.
The leaves, old gold, burnished brass and copper
deepest amber and vermilion tremble in the breeze.
Leaves fall all around the sleeping bear
land on his thick brown hair
until nearly covered in leafy filigrees
He awakes—shakes
his nose tests autumn air and wary
slowly rises on hind feet.
He peers into the trees where
hikers draw near. Shy, he retreats.
They never knew he was there.
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(((HUGS))) and love, your texas friend, karen lynn. :D